


Peace

by ultrafreakyfangirl



Category: Sweet Magnolias (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrafreakyfangirl/pseuds/ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: An alternate season 1 finale scenario - what happened after the accident? It's four years later, and Tyler Townsend is struggling. He hurts more than he ever thought was possible.
Relationships: Annie Sullivan/Tyler "Ty" Townsend
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Peace

_All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret._

* * *

It was Annie’s twenty-first birthday. Supposed to be. He could practically feel her here, with him, a margarita in her small, cute, hand, those that were so tiny, they were like baby hands and he’d teased her endlessly about them. She was smiling big, cheeky, almost, as she tipped the glass forward, salt rim making a mess on her lips, and there, he kissed her, looped an arm around her waist and pulled her in close, tasting the lime and tequila on her mouth.

Or, he would have, in another world. Another lifetime.

He hasn’t driven a car since. Won’t even go in one. He now has calf muscles like you wouldn’t believe, and while it was difficult these days, he thanked the Lord each day for them, because each time he saw Kyle, it was so damn hard not to cry. He’d been crying a lot these last few days, the closer this day got, and now that it was here, now that Kyle was here too, in that stupid wheelchair with a flimsy smile on his face and bangs in his eyes, the lump in his throat just wouldn’t leave. It was different for his brother. Kyle felt like he had to put on an act, sweet, empathetic, compassionate Kyle, was doing this to please their mom, because she’s told him time and time again since the accident that he was lucky to be alive, lucky to live the life that he wanted, because Annabelle Sullivan, _“bless that baby girl’s beautiful soul,”_ wouldn’t ever get to take another breath.

Still, Tyler couldn’t believe it, and maybe part of it was that he just wouldn’t let himself. He knew that he wouldn’t recover from the loss. That he would never love another person like he did her – does her – and he vowed to never subject another person to loving him when he couldn’t ever imagine loving them back, not when his heart would forever belong to her, to a girl that would forever be sixteen years old.

So, here they all were – him, Kyle, his mom, Aunt Helen, Ms. Dana Sue, Erik, Isaac, his dad, her dad, Coach Cal, Nellie, CeCe, fucking Jackson was here, and they were all standing on the Townsend porch, margarita in hand – virgin for the kids, alcoholic for the of age, which, as of three weeks ago, gone uncelebrated, he was, but even if he weren’t he would have snuck some tequila when his mom wasn’t looking. He needed it tonight.

Ms. Dana Sue cleared her throat and Tyler watched his mom lay a supportive hand on her back. “Happy twenty-first birthday, Annabelle. I thought we would be in a Napa winery right about now, and we’d be laughing and sampling tapas, but instead, it’s been four, long, hard years without you. I miss you everyday. We all do. There isn’t a day that goes by we don’t think about you. I promise you that. Rest in peace, my angel girl. Mama loves you forever.”

He watched the margaritas all spill onto the grass at once, almost methodical in the way they hit the ground without sound, and the silence proceeding her mother’s words was unnerving, even though it was out of respect; nothing about this was supposed to be _respectful_.

Ty wanted to blame himself. For the longest time, he did. If he would have paid attention more to Kyle, if he would have just manned up and talked to her about that kiss – their only kiss – and maybe then, she would still be alive today. Maybe then…but it was a spiral. There was no use.

Logically, he knew it wasn’t his fault, but still, shouldering blame wasn’t what kept him in bed for days on end, watching the same sky shine a dusty rose and then fade to black from the same position, his back to the wall. It was the simple fact that he’s lost her, he’s lost her and there was no way he could ever get her back. She would never know. She would never know that he loved her, that he loved her like she always hoped he would, and if it would bring any comfort at all, he would say something, but he knew that it wouldn’t, that nothing ever would, and so, if she never gets to know, nobody else does, either.

He wanted to say something though, but try as he might, talking about her, talking about her like she was gone, was still too hard, and if he were being honest with himself, it probably always would be. The name Annie would likely never cross his lips again, not out loud, but it would forever be on loop in his dreams, those dreams that always, no matter how hard he tries to change them, would always end the same way.


End file.
